


Blood On My Hands (Still Reaching For Heaven)

by DefaltManifesto



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Guilt, M/M, Stiles blaming himself not people blaming him, Victim Blaming, past possession, post 3b, violent imagery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2018-01-15 08:23:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1298056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DefaltManifesto/pseuds/DefaltManifesto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles struggles with the after affects of being possessed. Scott and Isaac try to help but there's only so much they can do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood On My Hands (Still Reaching For Heaven)

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from I Don't Wanna Die by Hollywood Undead. Hope you like it.

[The tumblr](http://schizzar.tumblr.com)

 

Stiles threw the last bag into the trunk of his jeep and slammed the door shut, staring at his distorted face in the reflection of the glass. A still unlit cigarette dangled from his lips, put there and forgotten before he could light it by Scott shoving a bag of clothes in his hands. He swallowed, the image of the cigarette bouncing with the motion, and for a moment, Stiles saw double, his shadow lingering over him, the cigarette on fire as he laughed.

Stiles sucked in a deep breath, pulling the cigarette out before he accidentally bit it. Fingers trembling, he pulled out the almost empty pack and shoved the cigarette back in. For a long moment, Stiles thought he could hear his shadow laughing and clawing at his mind.

"Hey dude, you okay?" Scott settled a heavy hand on Stiles' shoulder and squeezed.

Stiles brushed him off. "Yeah man. Where's Isaac?"

"He's being lectured by my mom," Scott said with his usual infectious smile. "He's too nice to just walk away."

"Isaac, nice, right," Stiles said with an eye roll that only felt somewhat faked.

Isaac popped up behind Scott, backpack slung over his shoulder. "You know I resent your persisted hostility."

"Then suck my dick Lahey. Scott, you can have shot gun," Stiles said, twirling the keys around one finger before heading to the driver's side.

There was a part of him that was afraid of what they were about to do; swan off into the wilderness of California's highways and hope Stiles didn't go totally psycho. It was three weeks of get Stiles away and relaxed before he snapped. Three weeks of beaches, illegal smokes and beer, and no responsibility, and Stiles was fucking terrified.

If he relaxed too much, he'd have to start thinking and that was much too dangerous.

His dad had made them reservations at every hotel already so they only had to show up and stay on track with driving. Stiles didn't say anything to his dad, but he was kind of offended that instead of helping him, his dad was just passing him off to his friends and hoping they would fix him. Stiles wasn't sure how to tell him there _wasn't_ a way to fix him.

Melissa smiled and waved from the porch as Stiles pulled out of the driveway. Scott fiddled with the iPod connector, finally settling on the Black Keys, glancing over at Stiles to see if he approved. Stiles gave a small nod and then turned his eyes to the road and did his best not to think at all.

           

-.-

 

"Where is your dad even getting the money to pay for this?" Isaac asked, tossing his bag on the bed nearest the window and then flopping down beside it.

"Derek's funding most of it actually," Scott said. "Something about just 'protecting his investments.'"

Stiles snorted. "So basically he finally figured out we're useful and wants to make sure I don't snap. I'm going for a smoke."

He tossed his bag at Scott and headed outside onto the balcony that overlooked the hotel parking lot. It was far from glamorous, but it was in a good part of town and near a casino too. Derek had gotten them all fake IDs, mostly for Stiles' new smoking habit, but for anything else they needed too. It wasn't like Stiles' dad was able to bring himself to make him quit anyways. No one had much of a heart to tell Stiles to do anything any more, though whether it was from fear or pity, Stiles didn't know.

A bit of ash fell off the cigarette, spiraling down to the pavement where it winked up at him with a warm spark before going out. Just like him. A spark that was strong enough to hold up a mountain ash barrier, but so weak that one good blow and it all crumbled around him.

"You know that smells absolutely horrible," Isaac said. He leaned against the railing beside Stiles, long fingers dangling over the edge.

"Yeah well I don't give a shit that you think Lahey, so go inside if it bugs you so much," Stiles did.

He took another drag and blew it out in Isaac's face, smirking when the werewolf started to cough. When the smoke cleared though, Isaac fixed him with a steady stare.

"I'm not chased away that easily. My dad smoked all the time and you get used to the smell, werewolf senses or not," Isaac said.

"Who says I'm trying to chase you away?" Stiles asked, gaze turning back to the parking lot.

"Scott can't stand the smell. You started it to keep him away, didn't you?"

"Fuck off Lahey, you don't know everything," Stiles said. He shoved the stub into the railing and let it fall to the ground.

"So I'm partially right."

Stiles opened their door and slammed it shut behind him. He had already settled onto the bed by the time Scott got out of the shower and let Isaac back in. Neither of them tried to share the bed with him. Stiles knew it was stupid, but he wished they would've insisted.

 

-.-

 

Stiles dreamed of twisting the katana around inside Scott, the sweet slick of Scott's blood on his hands. He dreamed of shoving Scott against the table and kissing him as he drew out every scrap of energy and spark of life until Scott was limp and glassy-eyed in his arms.

Stiles woke up screaming and barely made it to the toilet in time to throw up the meager contents of his stomach. Scott and Isaac watched on but didn't try to comfort him.

 

-.-

 

"Not sure a zoo is such a good idea," Stiles said, even as he followed the pair through the gates.

Scott handed their tickets to one of the employees and then tugged Stiles along after grabbing his hand. "What's there to be worried about? They're all in cages."

Stiles shook his hand out of Scott's grip, ignoring the hurt look it earned him. "Whatever man. When a tiger rips your face off, no one can say I didn't warn you."

"I've never seen a tiger before. I'd rather not _fight_ one though. Personal preference and all that," Isaac said, sliding in between Scott and Stiles.

Stiles bit the inside of his cheek, trying to ignore the way his gut twisted. Of course, this trip wasn't just about him. Isaac and Scott needed time to relax and pretend to be just regular teenagers too, and Stiles couldn't ruin that for them.

"Then tigers first," Stiles said, sauntering off ahead of them.

It got easier to loosen up as the day went on, especially since Isaac turned into a little kid the more they saw. He read over every information plaque there was, and he cooed over the penguins as they slid all over their exhibit on their stomachs. It was hard to feel bitter around cute animals, but the dark thoughts refused to dissipate entirely. Scott seemed convinced that Stiles was relaxing though and that was what mattered.

They saved the wolf exhibit for last. By then, the zoo was mostly cleared out, so they were only ones in the small shack overlooking the wolves. There were only two, one black, the other a dusky grey, nosing around through the brush, though every once in awhile they would nip at each other.

"Is it bad that I kinda want to pet them?" Isaac asked. "Or get one as a pet?"

"Both of those are horrible options," Stiles said. "Though I wonder who would win in a fight between all of you, Mr. Runaway."

Scott snorted as he leaned up against the glass.

"Hey, I ran away from those fights because I knew I wasn't gonna win. I'm nothing if not good at surviving."

"Wanna get some food?" Scott asked before Stiles could retort with something sarcastic.

"Yeah, sure," Stiles said.

He couldn't help but feel smug when Scott slung an arm over his shoulders and Isaac's eyes narrowed. It was immature, Stiles knew, to get excited when he got more of Scott's attention, but he couldn't help it. After all, despite everything that happened, he had still been there first.

 

-.-

 

That night found them at another hotel, but this one was a bed and breakfast off in the woods three miles from the high way. Stiles figured it was only a matter of time before they were brutally murdered in typical horror-film fashion, and Scott laughed at the suggestion. He and Isaac seemed more relaxed away from the city surrounded by nature, but it made Stiles want to claw his skin off.

In the city, there was always light. Enough to chase away the darkness and the shadows, but out where they were, the only light was in the room, and when Scott turned off the lamp, there was no street light to provide even a muted glow. Stiles stared up at the ceiling from the cot provided by the owners, eyes straining in the absolute dark.

"Scott?" he asked, voice small and quiet.

"Yeah man?" He heard Scott shift on the bed and Isaac gave a sleepy grumble.

Stiles sucked in a sharp breath and his chest went tight. He couldn't tell if his eyes were open or shut, and for a moment, he thought it had happened again. That he'd been possessed and his shadow had robbed him of his sight too because it just hadn't taken enough last time.

"Stiles?"

Scott's eyes were bright in the dark, the steady glow of a deep red light shocking him back into his body. His cheeks were wet with tears and Scott was hovering over him, brow furrowed in concern. There was a low mumble of words and then the light flicked on, bathing the room and chasing away the lingering shadows.

"F-Fuck." Stiles threw an arm over his eyes as shame washed through him.

"You okay?" Scott settled on Stiles' thighs, hands fluttering uselessly around his shoulders. "What happened?"

"Nothing. Just...got back to sleep," Stiles said.

"Yeah, great idea. Then you can scream yourself awake and freak everyone in the damn place," Isaac said.

Stiles sat up, shoving Scott off and getting to his feet. "I'm going outside for a smoke."

Scott caught his arm before he could get very far, tugging him back. Stile was too restless to sit back down though, so he settled for stubbornly looking away from them both.

"Why are you so against us helping you Stiles?" Scott asked. "You've done so much for me. It doesn't...it _shouldn't_ be so one-sided. You deserve-"

A sharp, barking laugh burst passed Stiles lips and he shook his head. "Deserve _what_ Scott? A hug and a kiss and a pat on the head? I stabbed you. I tried to kill you, and my dad, and Derek, and Allison's father, so what the hell could I possibly deserve besides-" He cut himself off, shaking his arms out and turning his gaze to the ceiling, only sparing Scott a cursory glance as he tried to control his breathing.

Scott looked like he'd been punched, all the eagerness bleeding out of his expression as he turned his gaze to the ground. "Stiles that wasn't you."

"Yeah, you sound real convincing." Stiles walked over to the window, grabbing a cigarette on his way over before pushing the window open. He lit the cigarette with a trembling hand and leaned hard against the windowsill, using the heavy weight of it to root himself back to reality.

"He's right," Isaac said. "It wasn't you. You're not a monster, Stiles."

"Yeah? And what the fuck do you know Lahey? You don't know what's in my head."

"And who's fault is that? We keep asking but you're worse than Derek!" Isaac said.

"What's in my head is worse than what he's got," Stiles said. He swallowed hard and then turned to rummage through his bag for his ashtray. "Can't tell you."

"Why not?" Scott asked, getting to his feet as Stiles put he cigarette out and set the ashtray on the windowsill. "You're not still...possessed are you?"

Stiles couldn't help it; he giggled. "Really dude? There's no way I can just answer that. I don't think so but it's pretty hard to tell. What I want and what he wanted...it's not all that different."

"What do you want Stiles?" Scott asked.

"You. Dead. At least part of me does." Stiles couldn't even try to stop the tremor in his voice as he leaned over the nearby desk, clutching the edges. "It's what I dream about you know? Your blood all over my hands. It feels good. I want more of it but then I look up and I see you, and your stupid trusting eyes and you don't even care that I'm pulling the life out of you and...I don't care either. I just want more."

His throat felt like sandpaper and he felt the tears threatening again, but he didn't have enough strength to hold them back anymore. Stiles crumpled forward on the desk, burying his head in his arms as a muffled sob snuck passed his bitten lips. Scott's hand settled on his back, rubbing up and down a few times before gently guiding Stiles back towards the bed.

Stiles went where Scott pushed, limbs too heavy, breath too short, to try and resist. He fell asleep between them with the light still on. For once, he didn't dream.

 

-.-

 

When Stiles' woke, he felt like his chest had been cracked open and emptied out. The warm shower did nothing to beat back the cold that took up residence in every corner of his body. The breakfast sat like lead in his stomach and he chased away the too sweet taste of syrup with two cigarettes.

Even those failed to warm him, but it at least managed to make his chest feel full.

He stayed in the back of the jeep and let Scott and Isaac stay at the front. He ignored their worried looks and did his best not to think too hard about the guilt still gnawing at him. After they stopped for lunch, Scott drove another hour before pulling into one of the carpool lots near the highway.

"Okay Stiles, you haven't talked all day, so we're going to talk because we can't just keep pretending you're fine when we know you're not," Scott said as he cut the engine. "Out of the car."

Stiles did as ordered, trying his best to be concerned by the anger and hurt in Scott's voice, but it was hard to feel anything. The emptiness was too much. He managed to look Scott in the eye, but it was hard, because Scott's eyes were so full of emotion and life, his words animated and desperate as he reached forward to grab Stiles' shoulders.

A pair of lips pressed hard up against his and Stiles' eyes flew open wide, everything hitting him all at once; the sharp edge of Scott's claws poking through his shirt, the rushing sound of traffic from the highway, the dry press of Scott's lips against his.

"Dumbass," Scott muttered as he pulled away. "You're my brother, just like you said. I'd do anything for you."

"Yeah." Stiles bowed his head. "I'm starting to get that feeling. And you...kissed me why?"

"It's not like you were paying attention before he did," Isaac said, looking pointedly away with his arms folded across his chest.

"I panicked," Scott said with his usual sheepish smile. "You were just so unresponsive. I figured it'd be enough of a shock. Sorry."

Stiles shrugged. "I'm sorry too. For all this. Me being this way."

"I swear to god I'm going to punch you," Scott said with an eye roll.

Stiles raised his eyebrows. "So we're going from kissing to violence. I'll tell you Scott, I'm _really_ not liking this mixed messages nonsense."

"Then stop emptying yourself out and actually talk to us," Scott said, bracing his hands on either side of Stiles' head against the jeep. "Please Stiles."

"If I do that, I'll-"

"Pretending it doesn't hurt and locking it down only works for so long," Isaac said, still not looking at him. "Just accept the help already."

Stiles bit his lip, closing his eyes. One of Scott's hands slid down to grip his shoulder before sliding down further to settle on Stiles' waist. Stiles' breath caught when Scott's lips found his again, soft and careful like he had all the time in the world. It wasn't like Lydia's kiss, hard and desperate as she tried not to panic just as bad as he did. Not like Malia's, all lies and manipulation and twisted with the sick fear that the Nogitsune was moments from regaining control.

No, this was Scott. This was safe.

Scott pulled back. "C'mon Stiles. Just talk to me."

Stiles wrapped his arms tight around Scott, slumping into Scott's arms. "I can't...I don't deserve you. Or your forgiveness."

Scott returned the hug just as tight. "Don't be stupid, man. Everyone deserves forgiveness, even you. Especially you."

"If I had been stronger-"

"It doesn't matter Stiles. I forgive you, okay? I'm gonna keep saying it until you believe me." Scott rested his chin on top of Stiles' head.

Stiles managed a nod and then tried not to cry.

           

-.-

 

That night, they got wasted. Or at least, Scott and Isaac tried to and Stiles turned into a giggling drunk that was surprisingly good at poker. Stiles felt lighter, warmer playing games in the company of the two people he'd been through the most shit with, but that could've just been the beer.

Isaac made sure he didn't accidentally brain himself on the edge of the toilet when he started puking and then hauled him to bed. There were two beds at their new hotel, but Scott and Isaac insisted on squeezing Stiles in between them. Stiles wasn't really about to complain though. Anything to chase away the cold for a little longer.

 

-.-

 

When Stiles woke, it was to Scott running a hand through his hair and pulling away the pain of his headache. The sound of the shower running explained Isaac's absence and why his back felt so cold. Stiles snuggled closer to Scott's warmth, lips pressing to the hollow of Scott's throat. After a moment of hesitation, Stiles pressed a tentative kiss there, half expecting Scott to pull away and reinforce the line that had always been there, but Scott just gave a soft noise of consent.

Stiles rolled them, careful and slow, so that he was on top. Scott stared up at him, eyes soft and open and warm as he placed his hands on Stiles' waist. Stiles swallowed thickly and then leaned down, pressing their lips together and shoving his hands to twist through Scott's hair. Scott let him in without hesitation, let Stiles' in to drink the warm and steady calm right out of him.

Stiles realized then, that he could easily lose himself with Scott, in Scott, and the addicting comfort his mere presence brought him. Stiles' squeezed his eyes shut tight before he pulled away, a half choked sob escaping him as he buried his face in Scott's neck. Scott rubbed his back and nuzzled his neck, unbothered by Stiles' abrupt change in mood.

"It's okay Stiles. Just talk to me. Please," Scott murmured against his ear.

Stiles' fingers slid down to the pillowcase before twisting the fabric hard in his grasp. "I just..."

"Just what?"

"Love you." The words were whispered, harsh, like the words were some foul thing, and in a way, Stiles supposed they were. Stiles didn't deserve to feel something as good as love after all. He could only taint something that pure. "I love you Scott, and I hurt you."

Scott kissed his temple. "I love you too, Stiles. And I forgive you, okay? I forgive you."

Stiles clung all the harder to him.

 

-.-

 

They had a ways to go to reach their next destination. Stiles ended up sitting in the back playing cards as best they could in the backseat as they tore across miles and miles of highway. Every once in awhile they would hit a rough bump and the cards would go tumbling everywhere, but Stiles didn't really mind. The simple act of reorganizing the cards helped him relax, gave him something to worry about that wasn't his own mental state.

"It sucks, doesn't it?" Isaac asked.

"What, cards flying everywhere?" Stiles asked as he began to reshuffle them.

"No, being trapped."

Stiles went still, painfully aware of Scott's repeated glances at him through the rearview mirror. "Yeah, I guess."

"Because you can't do anything," Isaac said. He grabbed the cards from Stiles and began to deal. "No matter how hard I tried, that stupid freezer wouldn't budge. Just didn't have the strength you know? But I'm starting to realize it wasn't my fault, being trapped. That was all my dad. It was his fault, not mine. There's nothing I could've done."

Stiles turned away and palmed his pockets for another cigarette. He opened the window so the smoke wouldn't stink up the car and tried not to think too hard about what Isaac had said.

 

-.-

 

Stiles woke up screaming again. For once, he couldn't remember the dream. Isaac and Scott held him until he stopped shivering, but he didn't sleep.

 

-.-

 

It poured out of him, his fears and worries, without warning. Scott ran out to grab them food, leaving Stiles and Isaac with their cards and beer. Isaac grabbed the cards to shuffle, then paused and tilted his head to the side, as if he could hear the building panic in Stiles' chest as he thought.

"You know breathing generally helps people calm down," Isaac said.

"I'm fine."

"Yeah you are."

Stiles opened his mouth to retort, but what came out instead was, "I feel empty. I don't...know what to do without him. I was trapped in my body yeah but...it was nice. Knowing I'd never be alone. Knowing I'd never have to be held responsible for what I was being forced to do..."

"That's okay."

"Okay? I just admitted that I _liked_ having a demon possess me. How the _hell_ could that possibly be okay?" Stiles demanded.

"You can hate something and love it too. You regret hurting people. That makes you different from the Nogitsune, even if being out of control was...safer," Isaac said. "Believe me, I get it."

Stiles stared at the floor, biting his lip hard as he tried to beat back the panic and the overwhelming feeling that he was _wrong_ and _twisted_ and-

"Stop thinking so hard." Isaac crawled over to him and tugged him into a tight, only slightly awkward hug. "You're a prick Stilinski, but you're a good person. You're not wrong for having emotions."

 

-.-

 

Stiles kept waiting for kissing Scott to get weird or awkward, but it didn't. He woke up most mornings with a quick kiss, and once, while Isaac was in the shower, Scott crawled down his body and blew him until he came, which was embarrassingly quick. Scott just beamed down at him though and gave him another kiss, which Stiles figured was supposed to be gross but he didn't really care.

Isaac got a lot more touchy feely after that, drifting close to Stiles wherever they walked, brushing their hands together and sometimes outright wrapping an arm around Stiles' waist.

On their way back down, traveling along the coast, Scott insisted they sort out what was really happening between them. Stiles told him it was comfort and cuddling and maybe even sex and that's all he wanted. Because it was. He couldn't handle anything else, a commitment, to someone he'd hurt so badly even if he loved them to hell and back. It was getting better; the guilt. Most the time he didn't talk about it with Scott though, because Scott couldn't get it.

Isaac did, and for all their shit, Stiles was starting to like talking to Isaac. After all, under the sarcasm and rough edges, Stiles was realizing Isaac was just as hurt as he was, felt just as guilty for what had been done to him. It wasn't perfect, but it helped. Anything helped.

He didn't stop smoking though. He at least stopped using it as a way to keep Scott away, and Isaac noticed. He smiled an obnoxious little smile every time he saw Stiles crack a window and linger by it instead of sneaking off. Stiles supposed it was progress, small as it was. Isaac kept telling him to be happy about the small victories, and he supposed it never hurt to fake it until he really _did_ feel better.

           

-.-

 

When they got back, Stiles' dad seemed more relaxed, happier, like he could sense something in Stiles had changed. Stiles wasn't about to pour his heart out to him or anything, but some of the strain between them had eased. They made a point of watching movies together every Saturday night, even on the nights Stiles felt like hiding in his room or sitting on the porch and smoking until his chest felt warm.

The nightmares didn't stop, not that Stiles was naïve enough to think they would. Scott pretty much became a permanent fixture in their home, doing what he could to calm Stiles down after he woke, which at least meant if his dad wore earplugs he could sleep through the night.

Small victories.

Stiles could tell Scott wanted more from him. He could tell from the way Scott was burrowing in, trying to prove to Stiles how much he cared by staying no matter what he got in return. Stiles figured one day he'd be ready to really throw off the guilt and start feeling again.

For now though, it was about the small victories, and he'd take any one he could grab.

           


End file.
